


He's the Prettiest Guy at the Dog Park, And He Can Prove it with the Ugliest Dog

by TearCatcher



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, dog park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:56:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10579332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearCatcher/pseuds/TearCatcher
Summary: Dog park meet-cute says it all. Give this rarepair a chance!





	

Pete loves going to the dog park on days like today. It’s sunny but a little bit cool, so Bowie doesn’t get overheated, and it’s mid-afternoon on a weekday, so it isn’t insanely crowded. Even though Bowie and Pete are both social creatures, it makes Pete nervous when Bowie ends up playing in a pack of unknown dogs, and he gets nervous when Pete himself ends up in a pack of unknown humans. And Bowie, with his fluffy snow-white coat, wolflike appearance, and mismatched blue and yellow eyes, attracts lots of attention. Sometimes they get a crowd around them, everyone wanting to know what kind of dog Bowie is and to coo over his beauty. Pete’s proud of his dog and doesn’t mind talking about him, but too many people overwhelm him and it takes away from his enjoyment.

He and Bowie had started out playing with a frisbee, but now Pete’s kicked back on a bench, watching Bowie romp around with a black lab mix that just arrived. After watching them for a while and determining they get along well, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He’s idly browsing Instagram when he feels a nudge at his foot. With a smile, he looks down and instantly does a double take at the creature at his feet. It’s a small but very round animal, with gray, wiry hair and bugged out eyes, its tongue poking out despite the fact that it’s not panting. A bone-shaped tag attached to the harness around its chest seems to indicate it is in fact a dog. 

“Hey...girl?” Pete says tentatively, since the harness is purple. She just looks at him with big, soulful eyes, short tail half heartedly wagging. He reaches down to scratch behind her goblinlike ears, and her tail starts wagging in earnest. Pete sets his phone on the bench next to him and leans down to scritch her properly, getting behind both ears and under her chin, and her eyes half close in bliss. 

“You're a sweet little thing, aren't you?” Pete murmurs to her. While she may not be the cutest dog, she certainly has a wonderful temperament. She suddenly flops down and rolls onto her back, exposing a pink, nearly hairless round belly, and Pete huffs out a startled laugh before taking her offer. While gently rubbing her belly, he looks up first to check on Bowie (who is circumnavigating the dog park’s perimeter with his newfound friend), and then to scan the park’s human occupants for someone who might be this charming, unusual dog’s owner. He catches eyes with a young hippie girl wearing a brightly colored headwrap and Birkenstocks, and she gives him an approving smile so he figures he found the right person. He smiles back and kind of nods before focusing his attention back on the animal at his feet, who seems almost delirious with pleasure, her tongue now lolling out the side of her mouth. Pete chuckles under his breath and looks the dog over, wondering what breed she could possibly be, and thinking that maybe he's got it all wrong about small dogs being yappy and hyperactive.

Then he hears what he never wants to hear at the dog park: the snarling of angry dogs. He looks over to see Bowie, the lab mix, and a brindle dog in a tussle. Teeth are bared and fur is bristled. He hops up, carefully sidestepping the little dog, and rushes for his own baby. By the time he gets there, they have all backed off from one another, but the brindle dog has a tuft of Bowie’s white fur in his mouth. His owner has come running, too, and is apologizing profusely to Pete as he runs his hands over Bowie, checking for any signs of blood. 

“It's fine,” Pete mutters. “He's fine,” but he can't look at the guy because he's too busy focusing on breathing deeply as he tries to stroke Bowie soothingly. 

The guy retreats, guiding his dog by the collar, and Pete glares at his back. “Maybe if you neutered your dog he wouldn't be so aggressive, asshole,” he says lowly, after he's out of earshot. “C’mon, Bowie, I think it's time to head home.”

He goes to the bench to retrieve his phone, and of course his little buddy is long gone. He feels bad that he abandoned her so suddenly, but hopefully she's getting attention from her owner now. He looks for the hippie girl and is surprised to see she's the owner of the lab mix, and the little gray dog is nowhere to be seen. He clips Bowie’s leash to his collar, and when he passes by the pavilion on his way out he spots his little friend, comfortably snoozing on the lap of a guy he didn't notice before. He's got longish brown hair that hangs over the collar of his red flannel shirt in waves, tattoos on the sides of his neck, and he's wearing jeans with such giant holes his entire kneecaps are poking through (one of which is also tattooed - ouch!). It's a good thing he's clearly engrossed in the book he is reading, which he's holding onto with his heavily tattooed hands, because Pete has slowed down considerably to check him out because - fuck - that is one good looking man. He has a thoughtful, intelligent face, his eyes moving rapidly over the page. Pete briefly considers letting Bowie off his leash again to play a bit longer so he can wander over to strike up a conversation with the guy about what a sweet dog he has, but for one thing he doesn't want to confuse Bowie; and for another he doesn't want to interrupt the guy’s reading. Inspiration strikes when he sees the doggie water fountain next to the pavilion, and he murmurs, “Hey, buddy, want a drink?”

Bowie reacts excitedly to anything Pete offers him, so he agreeably trots along to the fountain, but when Pete turns it on (making sure he's positioned perfectly in line with The Pretty Ugly Dog Guy), Bowie laps at it just once before looking at him expectantly. 

“You're not thirsty, boy?” Pete urges quietly, trying not to blatantly stare at the guy. He has a practically perfect nose, an amazing jawline, and - is that a scorpion on his neck? - so maybe he's a Scorpio…

The guy shifts and reaches for his phone in his top pocket, touching the side to presumably silence it. Pete quickly looks down at Bowie, but when he looks up again, aiming for casual, the guy is looking at Bowie over the top of his book with dark eyes and a slightly cocked eyebrow. He scans Bowie from head to tail appraisingly, then turns his gaze briefly to Pete, giving him a vaguely disapproving look before dropping his eyes back to the page. 

Pete feels his face heat up and he resumes walking Bowie to the gate. He’s at once indignant (so what if he didn’t go out of his way to adopt the homeliest dog on the planet; he loves all types of dogs and he donates to animal charities) and embarrassed (Bowie did cost a lot of money and Pete was majorly into _Game of Thrones_ at the time he got him and was therefore inspired to get his own version of a dire wolf). Stupid pretty guys with their ugly dogs. He stops for an ice cream cone to share with Bowie on the way home and decides he’ll go to the smaller dog park that’s closer to his house next time.

The following weekend, Pete picks up Bowie from his regular grooming at Petsmart. He’s fluffier than ever, his coat looks pristine, and he has a smart-looking black bandana imprinted with little dog bones tied around his neck. Heads are turning as he leads him out of the store, when Bowie suddenly stops. Something has captured his attention: a gigantic pink elephant stuffed toy, complete with baby blue bow on the top of its head, that someone has carelessly left in the middle of the aisle (or more likely, allowed their dog to leave). Bowie eagerly snatches it up and Pete immediately discovers it also has a very loud squeaker in it.

“Leave it!” Pete commands in his most authoritative voice, but Bowie is seemingly grinning around the toy in his mouth, tail wagging wildly. _Squeak squeak squeak_ goes the elephant.

“You have plenty of toys at home,” he tells him, as if reasoning with a dog is going to get him anywhere. He tries to gently pull the toy out of his mouth.

Bowie seems to think this is the start of a game of tug-of-war, so he settles his jaws around the toy more firmly, gnawing just enough to engage the squeaker repeatedly. His tail wags happily.

“Bowie,” Pete pleads, “leave it.”

_Squeak squeak squeak!_

“I think he’s made up his mind,” a voice says, and Pete looks over to see a woman sitting behind a table for a local dog rescue organization. She’s smiling at him, though, and her tone is fond.

“Yeah, and now he’s got it all slobbery anyway,” he says, smiling back at her sheepishly. He turns around to get in line for the register to pay for Bowie's ridiculous new toy (which he's going to remove the squeaker from as soon as he gets home). He stops in his tracks when he sees none other than the Pretty Ugly Dog Guy from the dog park, who is holding yet another small grayish dog, although this one is much cuter than the one who had befriended Pete. The way he is looking at Pete indicates he saw the entire spectacle with Bowie. His eyes are sparkling with amusement, and a smirk plays at his lips. Great; not only does he think Pete has a fancy designer dog, now he thinks he doesn't have a good handle on him. He's wearing the same t-shirt as the woman behind the table - for fuck’s sake, he volunteers with a dog rescue?! - and he's every bit as pretty as Pete remembers him. Now even more so, since he's not in a shadow with his face partially obscured by a book. He's actually shorter than Pete, which is an attribute Pete can appreciate, and his arms are bare, exposing two sleeves of tattoos. Pete's not sure why he feels so flushed - is it the embarrassment of having a disobedient dog, the judgment he feels from this perfect stranger, or the fact that said perfect stranger is so goddamn attractive? Or maybe it's just the constant _squeak squeak squeak_ coming from Bowie's jaws. 

Pete gets in line and tries in vain to get Bowie to quit squeaking that fucking elephant. 

“Frank, did you have any luck with that couple who were looking at Angel?” the woman with the rescue organization asks Pretty Ugly Dog Guy. 

He shakes his head. “No. They wanted a younger, prettier dog,” he says. Is Pete imagining it, or did his voice rise pointedly with each word? “People don't want to give an old girl like Angel a chance.”

Pete hurriedly takes care of his purchase and makes a beeline for the door, determinedly _not_ looking in the direction of Pretty Ugly Dog Guy. _Frank_. Pete doesn't know why he cares that he now has a name to go with that (stupidly handsome) face. Especially since he's never going to that dog park or to Petsmart ever again. 

********

After a couple trips to the dog park by his house, Pete remembers exactly why he doesn’t like going there. Not only is it smaller, but it’s not well maintained, with overgrown areas he’s afraid are full of ticks, and places that remain muddy for days after it rains. He owes it to Bowie to take him to the better one. Plus, he won’t have to give him a bath when they get home.

When they arrive at the nice dog park, Pete glances around furtively for cute tattooed guys and ugly little dogs, and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees neither. An hour passes quickly, and Pete decides to park himself on his favorite bench and get out the treats he’s brought to run through a few training exercises with Bowie (after the Petsmart incident, he’s been working very hard on getting Bowie to consistently follow commands). He’s practicing the oh-so-important “leave it” command, setting a treat on the ground in front of Bowie, but not allowing him to have it until he gives the okay, when a round gray figure darts out from under the bench and snatches the treat right from under Bowie’s nose.

“Hey, girl!” Pete laughs, surprised at how happy he is to see his little friend again. Luckily, Bowie is more baffled than agitated, so Pete slips him a treat of his own before petting the newcomer. “I guess you wanted a treat, too?”

The little dog looks up at him hopefully, eyes bugged out and tongue hanging. “What, you want another?” he asks. He holds one out in his hand, and she eagerly accepts it, tickling his palm with her scruffy little beard.

“Peter, what the fuck are you doing?” calls a voice behind him, and Pete jumps about 10 feet into the air. Pretty Ugly Dog Guy is running in direction, and Pete is alarmed. Maybe his dog is on a special diet? Maybe he just doesn’t want Pete’s poor dog handling skills anywhere near his dog?

“I’m sorry - she ran up and grabbed the first one - I didn’t mean - “ Pete babbles, watching him scoop up the little dog and staring at him wide-eyed.

“I saw,” he says, looking at his dog admonishingly. “I’m sorry Sweet Pea here has such bad manners.” The look on his face is friendly, Pete is relieved to see.

But Pete is still confused. “How did you know my name?” And why did he run up swearing at _Pete_ , if he blames the dog’s bad manners?

Now Pretty Ugly Dog Guy ( _Frank_ , Pete mentally corrects himself) looks confused, his nearly perfect eyebrows knitting together. “Your name?” he asks.

“Peter,’” Pete says. What’s with this guy?

Frank laughs, and Pete notices what a lovely laugh it is, even though he’s clearly missing out on the joke. “I didn’t say Peter. I said _Peater_. I have like a million nicknames for Sweet Pea and I don’t even realize what I call her half the time.”

At this, Pete laughs too. “I had flashbacks of my dad yelling at me. Only my family calls me Peter. Everyone else calls me Pete.”

Frank grins broadly. “No wonder you looked like you were in trouble. I’m sorry, Pete,” he says, deliberately saying his name. “I’m Frank.” He shifts Sweet Pea to his other arm and offers his hand.

“Yeah, I overheard when I saw you at Petsmart the other day,” Pete says, and instantly regrets it, his face heating up at the memory. He really needs to get a handle on not saying the first thing that pops into his head. He shakes Frank’s hand without looking at him, then mentally chides himself for being so anxious he didn’t even get a chance to register what his hand felt like.

Frank doesn’t skip a beat. He carefully shoulders Sweet Pea and leans down to pet Bowie, asking him, “Are you enjoying your new elephant?” He shoots a look at Pete to make it clear he’s teasing.

Pete groans. “That fucking elephant! I’m still finding shreds of pink fluff all over my house.”

Frank plops down on the bench next to him, setting Sweet Pea gently on the ground. Pete can't hide his pleased grin.

They chat about their dogs for a while. Frank assures Pete that Sweet Pea has done far more embarrassing things to him in public than how Bowie acted that day in Petsmart, and Pete makes it clear that he's not some kind of dog elitist and he thinks Sweet Pea happens to be one of the coolest dogs he's ever met. Pete is blown away by how smart and articulate Frank is, and is slightly mesmerized watching him talk. He's very animated, especially when he's really into what he's talking about, and he gesticulates generously, hands flying everywhere. Plus, anyone who loves their dog as much as Frank loves Sweet Pea has to have a kind heart. 

There's a lull in the conversation, marked by lingering eye contact and shy smiles, before they both think to look for their dogs. Bowie is flopped on his belly in the shade, looking happy and relaxed, and Sweet Pea is pawing at him and nudging him with her head, looking like she's playing with his fluffy coat. 

“If that's not a good sign I don't know what is,” Frank murmurs, so low Pete’s not sure whether he heard him correctly. He turns on the bench with his full body to face Pete.

“I've been coming here a lot more than I usually do lately,” he says casually, but his greenish brown eyes are intense, examining Pete's reaction. 

Pete has to swallow hard before replying, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he continues, “I kept hoping to run into you again.”

Pete's at a loss for words for a moment. He can't very well tell Frank he's been actively avoiding running into him. He finally blurts, “I'm glad you did.”

Frank’s smile lights up his whole face, and Pete can't do anything but grin back. “So there's that sidewalk cafe close to here where dogs are welcome…” he says. 

“Yeah, they're supposed to have great food,” Pete manages to say through the rush of blood in his head. 

“Would you want to continue our conversation there?” Frank asks, giving Pete a hopeful look that makes Pete want to give him anything he'd ever ask for. 

“I'd love that,” Pete says sincerely. He could talk to Frank for hours. Hell, he could _watch_ Frank talk for hours.

They call their dogs, and the four of them walk out of the dog park together.

**Author's Note:**

> I need to refrain from gifting everything I write to MsPeppernose (aka the Reigning Queen of Wentziero), but I thank her for introducing me to my new favorite ship, and as always for her encouragement. I post about Fall Out Boy and Frank on [tumblr](https://coastingon-potential.tumblr.com/). Let me know if I've converted you to Wentziero, because we're currently about an army of four ^-^


End file.
